


Night Shift

by psiten



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, First Meetings, Gay Disaster Shiro (Voltron), Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Animal Injury, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Sendak is an Overdramatic Asshole, Sweet, Veterinary Clinic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-20 21:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21288659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psiten/pseuds/psiten
Summary: A meet-cute with a dangerous creature of the night is still a meet-cute, and Dr. Shirogane Takashi, veterinarian, may be many things... but "scared" isn't one of them.Some people who worked in the daytime and apparently never went out at night even claimed that supernatural species weren't real, but what would they know? "Monsters" (as the ruder daytimers still called non-human sentients) only came out at night.Half the day shift, demonstrably, couldn't recognize a vampire standing in their own lobby.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 257
Collections: Haunted VLD Exchange 2019





	Night Shift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [galaxy_witch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxy_witch/gifts).

It was, of course, a dark and stormy night the first time Keith kicked in the back door of Shiro's veterinary clinic, although they hadn't yet exchanged names then. Shiro had looked up from doing inventory at the thunder of the metal door crashing into the side of a cabinet and found himself staring into eyes as shadowy and deep as the rain-filled city streets, set in a beautiful face that looked as fierce as the wind sounded.

The enormous hellhound the slim man was carrying like he was no heavier than a pillow had been the second thing to catch Shiro's attention, which was when Shiro had whispered, "Shit," and spread a sterile pad over an open patch of operating table. "Over here."

The hellhound had been bleeding from a wound on his back leg so deep, Shiro could see bone. Supernatural or mundane, a wound like that wasn't good for any animal. A werewolf would be a different story, of course, since re-transforming would mostly repair muscle and bone structure, but it was a waning half moon. Werewolves were a "last week" kind of thing.

"Does he have any allergies?" Shiro asked as he washed his hands, pulling on nitrile gloves. "Wait. He or she?"

"He," said the man whose name he hadn't gotten yet, eyes locked on the hellhound he placed on the table. "Hold still. Good boy." Snarling more than his dog, the man turned back to Shiro. "No allergies. Hurry. We don't have much time."

Shiro swabbed the wound, cleaning away the blood and refusing to flinch. "I'm going to need his weight if I'm going to anesthetize him for surgery."

The man growled, like he was used to being obeyed instead of argued with. "And I said there's no time." Pulling a thick wooden stick -- no, the stick was sharpened, that was a _stake_, with tell-tale scratches from being shoved through vampire ribs -- off of the tactical belt around his waist, the man stuck it between the hellhound's jaws. "Bite," he told the hound.

The dog bit. And kept his leg still instead of flinching when Shiro brought out the disinfectant.

"Good boy," his visitor murmured again.

"If he shows the slightest sign of not understanding what's happening to him," Shiro told his visitor, "I use anesthesia, and that's final. I don't care if you're a big, scary vampire hunter. I don't torture animals, period."

That earned him confusion, at least, instead of anger, and a moment of silence where Shiro could hear the drips from the hunter's rain-soaked coat hitting the floor. The man's voice was softer when he said, "Deal. Now start stitching, Doctor." Knowing how he would react to that voice later -- how it sounded the way velvet felt -- Shiro often wondered if his skin had shivered then, but it was probably just that he remembered it that way. In the moment, all of his focus had been on the injured patient.

Everyone in veterinary school heard stories: that hellhounds could think and understand on the same level humans could. It was even documented in some of the _unofficial_ textbooks professors weren't allowed to put on the curriculum, but nobody trained you to do emergency surgery on them. No one at his office had even seen a hellhound in person. Officially, they weren't supposed to exist, just like everyone pretended under the light of the sun that vampires weren't real, and didn't run the best nightclubs or make the meanest loan sharks -- the kind who really would take what they were owed in blood if they couldn't get it in cash. Some people who worked in the daytime and apparently never went out at night even claimed that supernatural species weren't real, but what would they know? "Monsters" (as the ruder daytimers still called non-human sentients) only came out at night.

Half the day shift, demonstrably, couldn't recognize a vampire standing in their own lobby.

And now, Shiro had seen a hellhound. Seen one, buzzed the fur off his rear leg to clear the wound, stitched him up, and bandaged him, all while the...

Owner?

No. Not owner. Keith didn't _own_ this beast. They looked like partners, and while Shiro sewed the hellhound's wound shut, the dark haired stranger embraced his dog with his nose buried in wet, dank fur, murmuring, "You're doing great, boy. Just a little longer. We're almost done." Shiro couldn't tell if he was saying it more to calm the hellhound or to reassure himself.

All he could do was marvel at the swift escape his visitor made as soon as Shiro declared, "Okay, he's stable." Lifting up the hellhound, he'd sprinted for door and as good as disappeared.

Shiro had run after him, but couldn't even tell which direction he'd gone. He called out to the person with butterfly wings on the corner who was either a daoine sidhe or a raver in cosplay, but they ran off, too. If it weren't for the bloody mess on the operating table he'd had to clean up, he might have assumed he'd imagined everything. But there he was, disinfecting the table, prepping instruments for the autoclave, and trying to decide if a strange vampire hunter's eyes had really been as beautiful as he remembered.

~//~

The answer was yes, Shiro learned the next day. Very, very yes.

Showing up for his regular shift, Shiro stared into the eyes of his mysterious stranger, who was waiting in the lobby. If anything, his memory was a pale imitation of reality.

He was fairly sure he maintained his composure. Mostly. "Hi, uhh..."

"Keith," the man said, extending his hand. "Keith Kogane." The hellhound wasn't here today, Shiro noticed as he accepted the handshake.

"I'm Dr. Shirogane Takashi, but please, call me Shiro. I... didn't expect to see you again. How is the patient doing?"

The man, Keith, clicked his tongue, glancing at the floor. "He's healing great, although he won't be leaving the house for awhile. Hates the way you shaved his leg, of course. He says it's undignified, and he's got some choice words about wearing a bandage, too."

No doubt. Shiro waited with a smile for Keith to look up. "I'm glad to hear he's okay."

"Yeah. Thanks to you." The curl of his lips was shy, a far cry from the brutality of when they'd first met, but just as intense in how it burned into Shiro's memories. "Sorry about running off like that. We were... in trouble. Trouble I didn't want to bring down on someone else. But that's no excuse for skipping out on my bill. How much do I owe you?"

Technically, he'd heard the words, but Shiro felt like everything the... _geez_ just gorgeous, lean-muscled man... Everything he said was dancing around Shiro's head, taunting him by keeping all meaning just out of reach. "Bill...? Owe...?" Shiro repeated, gaze tracing the lines of Keith's dark hair falling around his face.

His voice was as bewitching as his looks. And his own behavior was completely unprofessional, Shiro realized as Griffin cleared his throat from the reception desk. In a (gay) panic, Shiro finally dropped Keith's hand.

Griffin, the day nurse, had an annoyed edge to his voice that probably matched his expression. Shiro couldn't say. He was looking at the way Keith had the palest hint of a blush. "He showed up saying he owed us for services rendered, but I couldn't find him in the system, Doctor."

Was that... a fang? Where Keith bit softly at his bottom lip? If Keith were a vampire, it would explain his superhuman strength and how Shiro felt intoxicated just looking at him. Everyone who admitted vampires existed knew they were like venus flytraps, naturally irresistible to their prey, and their healing factor meant they could count on feats of strength that would require near-death adrenaline for a human (followed by torn or pulled muscles). It couldn't be, though. The sun hadn't gone down yet. The early evening light was coming in the window even now, dappling Keith's cheekbones, and there was no smoke or burning to be seen.

"_Doctor_," Griffin repeated.

Shiro took a sharp breath in, snapping his head toward the desk. "Yes! Right! That's me."

"Uh-huh." The nurse's eyes narrowed, but looked back to the computer as Shiro walked behind the desk. He tapped impatiently on the keyboard. "I tried to start a client profile, but _Keith_ here won't tell me what breed his dog is."

The gorgeous man in the lobby who may or may not have been a vampire studied the ceiling to avoid Shiro's smile. So far, Shiro's suspicion about the beast on his table having been a hellhound was looking correct. "Ah, yeah. Based on what I saw, breed is a difficult question..."

"So he's mixed breed. I've been trying to explain that." Griffin sounded annoyed, and Keith's nose was wrinkled with disgust. It wasn't clear exactly how long they'd been arguing about this, but Keith was hardly the first person Shiro had met who didn't like their animal companions being called "mixed" when they were something special.

"Keith," he asked, hoping for a compromise. "Since we don't have his actual breed in the database, do you mind if we enter him as a wolfhound?"

The man's face softened in surprise, locking eyes with Shiro again. "Yeah. Wolfhound works. ...Thanks." The sound of his voice was definitely going to haunt Shiro just as much as his face.

"Get a fucking room, you two," Griffin muttered. It was soft enough that Shiro could barely hear him, and yet from across the room, Keith averted his eyes and crossed his arms like he'd heard the nurse speaking clearly.

So, superhuman hearing. Another point in the vampire column. And, honestly, vampires _did_ make the best vampire hunters, since human police weren't equipped to handle vampire criminals. Punching a stake through someone's chest or restraining someone ten times stronger than you wasn't something a human could do barehanded. So did that make Keith... a vampire cop? Maybe?

No. This was all supposition. Jumping to conclusions was a bad habit.

"The only thing left is the dog's name, then we can make the bill." Griffin glared at the way Keith frowned. "Oh, do _not_ tell me your dog doesn't have a _name_! A non-standard breed is one thing, but a _name_\--!"

"James, this is a customer," Shiro reminded him. Ever since that one time Griffin had tried to get snippy with a sorceress by insisting that her phoenix couldn't be over one hundred years old because, "phoenixes aren't real," Shiro had tried to intercede sooner rather than later. He wasn't a bad nurse, but he didn't have patience for things he didn't understand.

Typing 'Dog Kogane' into the form, James shut his mouth on whatever commentary he clearly wished he could share. "Right. So he said this was emergency surgery? Why didn't Nadia leave any notes? She's usually good about that."

Shiro was absolutely not going to throw the night nurse under the bus for this. "Keith didn't come in the front door." He cut off Griffin's brewing indignation. "James, it's fine. Can you check stock in the exam rooms? I'll take care of entering this."

"With pleasure," the nurse grumbled, stalking into the back.

While Shiro made the bill based on what he remembered from the hurried rush last night, he tried to ignore the change in the air caused by Keith leaning on the counter. The smell of a leather jacket was only half of it. Shiro could feel how close the man was, like electricity setting all of his skin on edge, reaching even the phantom nerves of his prosthetic arm. "I don't think he likes me," Keith murmured, halfway to a purr.

"James works day shift," Shiro answered.

Keith's laugh was a smoky, dangerous thing. "I see. He's not used to things that go bump in the night, like you are."

"He is not." After a few more clicks, Shiro printed the invoice for the handsome possible vampire with the ailing hellhound at home. "So your total is $849.19. Will that be--"

The stack of crisp hundred dollar bills Keith pulled out of his pocket answered the currency question, eight of them barely making a dent in the pile. The evidence for Keith being a vampire kept adding up. Humans almost never had that kind of money, whereas vampires had more trouble getting the identification they needed to set up a bank account. Something about having a "Deceased" flag on your social security number, Shiro had heard, when they could even get social security numbers. The bigger surprise, though, was that Keith also counted out a pile of smaller bills, and even put down a dime, a nickel, and four pennies.

_Exact change._

Shiro wondered for the first time, although not the last, if the fluttering in his heart might be love. As he took the cash, Shiro asked, "Am I going to see you again?"

He might not get another chance.

An actual smile broke across Keith's mouth while the man gave him an up-and-down look over. Oh, those were definitely fangs. The immunity to sunlight was odd, but hey. He didn't know everything about vampires. Shiro only knew this was like looking his death in the face, and as far as he was concerned, it was a good way to go.

"Are you hitting on me, doc?"

"Only if you're okay with that."

The light chuckle when Keith leaned back on the counter wasn't a no. "Most guys who clock me as a _big, scary vampire hunter_ can't run away fast enough. How do I know you're not, say... a devastatingly handsome thrall to a vampire mafia boss under orders to seduce me so I let down my guard?"

Shiro opened his mouth to make a comment that probably wouldn't have been appropriate for the office, then shut it abruptly. "That's... actually really a good question. I have no idea how I would prove that to you, and it seems like a legitimate concern."

That laugh was definitely something he could get addicted to, with Keith's eyes shining under long, dark bangs and collarbones that made Shiro's mouth water. He only hoped he got the chance to hear it again. He had a feeling he would, especially when Keith said, "Maybe I'll take my chances. I like living on the edge."

"Well, my shift ends at 6AM, if you want to meet for breakfast." Shiro swallowed, hoping he didn't sound too nervous. "What... would you want to eat?"

_Please let vampires eat human food_, Shiro prayed silently.

Keith leaned in with a wicked grin, saying, "What would you do if I said I'd like to eat _you_ for breakfast?" Which clarified absolutely nothing, but assured that Shiro would spend the night wondering if his blood would taste good. He'd gotten decent reviews on his other bodily fluids.

With a hopeful grin, Shiro asked, "Be gentle with me?"

"Relax," Keith whispered, as close to Shiro's ear as he could get under the circumstances. "Going for the throat on a first date isn't my style. I usually hit up the IHOP after patrols. If that works for you?"

"Absolutely. I love pancakes." Shiro could barely contain his grin, and his stomach doing flip-flops was a lost cause. He had a _date_. With a _hot vampire_ slash vampire hunter, who was also a caring dog person, _and_ paid in exact change! "But in all seriousness, did you want to schedule a follow-up visit for your hellhound to make sure everything is healing okay?"

On his break, he could check in at the sorceress's shop down the street to see if she knew who he could talk to about how hellhounds reacted to standard medications, in case there were any shots he should know not to use. Or what if they needed different vaccines? He had to know. A patient's well being was on the line.

Keith tilted his head, giving Shiro a long, considering look -- maybe trying to decide if he was crazy -- but in the end, he shrugged. "I'll ask him what he wants to do. See you at six, Doc."

Griffin's judgmental eyes as Keith walked out the door into the setting sun meant nothing to Shiro. This was either the best idea or the worst idea of his life, but oh, it was _happening_.

~//~

Rounding out the end of his shift, as Rizavi turned over the desk to Leifsdottir (after twelve hours of the night nurse teasing him about checking for bite marks tomorrow), Shiro had only one wish: that he'd remembered to ask for Keith's phone number, because no one was waiting outside the office at 6AM. Griffin had, it seemed, gotten so caught up in arguing about dog breeds that he'd forgotten to put a number in the customer database as well.

It probably wouldn't have helped, Shiro told himself. Either he was being stood up, in which case Keith wouldn't answer, or his date had been held up on his "patrols", as he'd called them, in which case Keith also wouldn't answer. Or maybe Shiro had misunderstood, and Keith had meant to meet him at the IHOP instead of at the office?

Worth a shot. If he went to the restaurant and Keith wasn't there, he could still have pancakes, so not a total loss. Shiro ducked his head in the door and called to Rizavi and Leifsdottir, "Hey! If Keith shows up and asks where I am, can you tell him I went ahead to the IHOP, and I'll wait until 7:30? And I guess if he can't make it until after then, you can give him my phone number if he wants it?"

Rizavi snickered into a file, and Leifsdottir asked, "May I have a description? I'm not familiar with 'Keith', Doctor."

"Ohhh, apparently he's _dreamy_," Rizavi answered. Shiro rolled his eyes, but she kept going anyway. "James told me Dr. Shirogane could _not_ stop staring... or was it drooling? Even though, and I quote, he thought the guy, 'Wasn't even that hot'."

Leifsdottir looked nonplussed at her fellow nurse. "Knowing James was jealous gives me no useful identifying information. Height, approximate weight, skin tone, hair color, eye color, distinguishing features, and/or habitual clothing items would be preferable."

Shiro held a hand up around his chin. "He's about this tall, thin but... strong-looking." He had to physically shut his mouth on giving a dissertation on how sturdy Keith's shoulders had looked, or how well his pants had showed off his trim waist. "Skin a little paler than mine. Hair is..."

_Like a raven's wing at midnight._

"... His hair is black, kind of to his shoulders? With bangs." His inner struggle must've been showing because Rizavi was laughing at him, but he soldiered on. "Eyes are, you know..."

_Like storm clouds and lightning crystallized in amethyst._

"... They're, uh. Purple. Dark purple, you might think they're black if you're not looking closely."

"I see you don't have that problem," Leifsdottir deadpanned, as vicious with the mockery in her own way as everyone on the nursing staff except Kinkade.

"I could look at him all day," Shiro said without a hint of shame, because _fuck shame_ when there were men like that. "And unless he's changed, he'll be wearing black, possibly with a tactical belt stocked to take down vampires. Also, I'm pretty sure he _is_ a vampire. If he smiles, you may see fangs."

After a blink, Leifsdottir said, "I see. I would ask if you're sure that dating him is wise, but doubtless you've already considered and rejected logic."

Shiro flashed her his brightest smile. "Got it in one. But thanks for your concern, Ina. Well, I'm off to the IHOP!"

"Have fun!" Rizavi called.

"Don't die," Leifsdottir chorused after her.

Excellent advice, really. Also the words that echoed through Shiro's head when he turned the corner onto 63rd Street, and something he initially identified as a freight train barrelled into him. Shiro's second thought as he got tossed into a brick wall and fought to pull in a breath was that a grizzly bear had him by the shoulders. He could even feel claws. The flickering of the pre-dawn streetlights, however, started to reveal a face that was human-esque underneath the snarls and bared fangs that were nowhere near as cute as Keith's.

So... vampire.

Although, given the thick body, heavy musculature, and clear signs of prominent body hair -- Shiro winced at the thought of having to wax something like that monthly so he could stand to show up at the gym -- this guy wasn't _not_ a bear. Just... _Homo nocturnis_, not _Ursus arctos_. And if Shiro had worried for even a second that he was only attracted to Keith because of any vampire irresistibility, those worries vanished completely. This asshole was _not_ his type.

Shiro didn't usually have this problem. He worked in a decent area of the city. But he did what his self defense classes had taught him and tried to find his calm, do something to throw off his attacker while he looked for a weakness.

"Do you mind backing off?" Shiro asked. "I've got a date. I don't want to keep him waiting."

The large vampire turned a wicked grin on him. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Dr. Shirogane. _Keith_..." he said, spitting the name like poison. "... won't be meeting you today. Or ever."

Okay, so this was personal. Shiro let his voice get threatening. "Did you do something to him?" he asked. "If you hurt Keith, I'll--"

"What do you think a _puny mortal_ like you can do to me?" the vampire sneered. "I have walked the nights of ten thousand years, and bested heroes out of legend. You are nothing--"

Finding a way to twist out of the man's grip, although his claws left rips in Shiro's coat and scratches that were definitely bleeding, Shiro fell into a fighting stance. "And you talk too much. Nobody's told you that in ten thousand years?"

He was outclassed. He could see it in the killer glint of this man's eyes. But giving in wasn't an option, and all it took for a weaker opponent to win was for the stronger fighter to underestimate him and make one mistake. This guy was strong, but also cocky. The vampire didn't even press his advantage, but instead gave Shiro time to assess the ground and catch his breath while he made a show of licking the traces of blood off his claws.

"Impudent," the man growled.

"Where's Keith?" Shiro spat back.

Scoffing, the vampire said, "That's right, play dumb! But no matter how you protest, I will wring the location of the Marmora nest out of you, _mortal_." Shiro set that non-sequitur aside to process later, focusing for the moment on the clawed fingers that might come for him at any second. "You'll find my methods of persuasion are very effective. And then, I will savor the taste of your blood on my tongue. Although perhaps it will amuse me to let you live long enough to see me cut off your little half-breed's head before I drain your life!"

People who talked too much always tried so hard to say something threatening before they struck, like this guy. Shiro could hear the moment of attack coming, and was ready for the vampire to launch himself in Shiro's direction. Even so, he moved so fast, Shiro almost couldn't dodge in time. He just barely sidestepped the vampire's line of attack and only managed to grab his opponent's arm out of the instinct of weekly training drills at the dojo since he was ten. Pulling the arm down as he dropped to a knee, Shiro felt the vampire's own momentum flip his bulk down onto the sidewalk, hard enough to fracture pavement.

The adrenaline of a real fight was nothing like the practice mats. It was all too clear that only instinct had saved him, and he wouldn't be able to think through anything while the vampire was on his feet. Would that be enough? Killing a vampire wasn't that easy, but maybe he'd been knocked unconscious? So Shiro hoped, anyway, backing as far away as he could and scanning the area for something he could use as a weapon while he had a chance.

A broken shipping pallet. He could tear off a piece of wood--

Before Shiro could contemplate how to separate one of the planks from the brace it was nailed to, the vampire stood with a growl. "You have spirit. _Good_. Easy prey is unsatisfying."

Shiro tried to read how the vampire would come at him next, since the same move probably wouldn't work twice. He'd also cut the chatter, coming at Shiro with only a beastly yell. The swipe of his claws was too fast to see, and Shiro managed to dodge another grapple, but not a cut across his nose, or a shove that sent him tumbling to the ground. It was all he could do to roll onto his feet. He didn't care how bad the odds were. He'd put up a fight.

But the large vampire wasn't in front of him anymore.

His eyes followed the sound of a growl to see the person he'd been fighting perched on top of a mailbox, and another figure threatening the vampire from the ground.

A figure with hair like a raven's wing at midnight, and an ass like Christmas had come early.

"Keith?" Shiro murmured.

"Sorry I'm late," he yelled, not taking his eyes off the larger vampire. "This guy had minions."

And, tearing his eyes off of Keith's rear end, he could see the tell-tale signs of a hard fight in the tears on his clothing and fresh stains on the wooden stakes. Well, better late and undead than actually dead and never.

The man they were fighting was more cautious now. It showed in his posture, and in the way he scanned Keith for openings. When he sneered, "There you are, Half-Breed. I wouldn't have guessed you'd be so sentimental, coming to collect your property," he was stalling for time, not gloating like before.

"Fuck you, Sendak."

Unlike the other vampire -- Sendak, apparently -- Keith didn't waste time. The sweep of a blade at Sendak's legs was nothing more than an arc of light from the streetlamp reflecting off of steel. Sendak jumped to the ground, avoiding the swing, pulling his own sword out of Shiro couldn't see where, and the fury of clangs and parries and attacks that followed moved too fast for Shiro's eye to track in the darkness. It felt like his vision was starting to blur, enough that he barely noticed when Keith took up a stake and tried to sneak it through Sendak's chest while Sendak thought he was pinning Keith helplessly against the wall.

"You'll have to do better than that," Sendak scoffed. "A brat like you can't hope to outmaneuver an elder vampire."

Monologuing again, Sendak didn't notice that one of Keith's kicks while trying (or pretending to try) to escape his grasp sent something flying across the ground at Shiro. It looked like a flashlight. A very large, very durable flashlight. Taking a nod from Keith as a signal, Shiro picked it up and looked for a switch.

Meanwhile, Keith kept Sendak's attention by struggling for leverage (or, again, maybe pretending to struggle -- it was hard to tell). He growled, "Then it's a good thing I don't have to outmaneuver you, huh, Sendak?"

"What trick do you have now, _Half-Breed_?"

"No tricks," Keith grunted. "But dhampirs don't burn, so I just have to stay alive until the sun comes up."

Which it wouldn't for at least another hour, Shiro knew, but the man he hoped to be dating soon (even if the IHOP would never let them in looking like this) shot him a _look_, and he flicked on the flashlight Keith had kicked over. It reflected off the wall as bright as day. Shiro couldn't blame Sendak for flinching. Not only was he looking for the sun to burn him, looking at that light straight on had to be blinding.

It only took that moment of weakness for Keith to knock Sendak to the ground and shove a stake-- Oh, no. It looked like he'd gone for cutting off Sendak's head. That worked, too. The massive vampire's body crumpled to dust, and Shiro was not too proud to admit it: Keith stowing his used weapons while torn up, panting, and bloody was one of the hottest things he'd ever seen. He had to get this man's phone number.

His date sauntered toward Shiro, holding out a hand for the flashlight and catching it easily when Shiro tossed it. "Thanks."

"I'm pretty sure I should be thanking you," Shiro said.

For the first time since they'd met, Keith seemed to shrink, and looked down as he kicked at the pavement. "Don't thank me. When we found out Sendak had tracked us here, I let his people think I told you where to find us. I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think I could keep you safe. The Marmora aren't like that," he insisted, looking up with a light burning in his eyes that rooted Shiro to the spot. "But don't _thank_ me for using you, Shiro."

Shiro ignored the blood dripping down the side of his cheek and seeping into his clothes. A thousand cuts couldn't have wiped the smile off of his face. "You remembered my name!"

The sight of Keith's legs crumpling, though, superseded everything else. Shiro rushed forward, falling into exam mode. Most of the cuts looked superficial. Some were already starting to heal, but there was a deeper wound in his side that looked like it had something to do with the bloodied knife lying next to Sendak's ash pile.

"Fuck," Keith breathed. "I didn't realize he got me that badly."

"Yeah, adrenaline is crazy like that," Shiro murmured. "It doesn't look like he ruptured any organs, but you'll need stitches. And I don't care how fast you heal, the wound should be cleaned. Do you think you can walk? My office is probably the closest place."

"My hero _again_," he laughed. Keith tried to get his feet under himself, with Shiro's help, but his legs weren't moving properly. As shaky as Shiro was, having an adrenaline crash and some blood loss of his own, it was all they could do to prop themselves against the wall. "Give me a second to rest, Shiro. I'll be okay to walk soon."

"Would it help if..."

Shiro trailed off as Keith narrowed his eyes. "If what?"

Wiping a smudge of blood from the trickle on his face, Shiro held out his fingers to Keith. "I hope this isn't some kind of rude thing to ask, but you _do_ drink blood, right? Will it help you regain your strength?"

From the way Keith licked his lips, expression suddenly filled with hunger, and how his breathing hitched, the answers seemed to be yes, and probably also yes.

His voice was a hoarse whisper that made Shiro even weaker in the knees. "Shiro, you don't understand. It's not like _medicine_. Blood is-- That's more than I can ask!"

"That's why I'm offering," Shiro said, helping Keith turn so they were face to face. The lust in Keith's face was so hot, he could feel it pulling him in, drowning his senses in heat. It was intoxicating, being wanted that badly. Being desired in a way Shiro had never felt before. "Keith, I'm already bleeding. If there's something wrong with biting me, just take--"

An iron grip shoved him against the wall, but unlike when Sendak had done it, Shiro couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather be. Starting with a soft kiss on his chin, Keith lapped up the rivulets of blood falling from the scratch across his nose. His lips and his tongue teased at the corner of Shiro's mouth, and in the heady lust blacking out Shiro's mind, he tried to chase them into a copper-flavored kiss, but Keith trapped his head with a hand under his chin. No question, he was getting stronger as he kissed each drop of blood off of Shiro's skin.

And the liquid moan Keith breathed against Shiro's cheek sent shivers down his every nerve. "You _would_ be O-negative," Keith chuckled. "Is there any way you're _not_ perfect?"

"Is O-negative better?" whispered Shiro, trying to resist leaning in for a kiss that Keith didn't seem ready to give him.

"No. Just my favorite flavor." With a growl, Keith tore open Shiro's shirt, dragging that and his jacket down off his left shoulder and planted his mouth on Sendak's scratches. Shiro couldn't help gasping, panting at the sight of Keith feeding while he grabbed the man tighter around the waist. His legs might have been weak before, but as he licked and sucked his way over the wound, he was steady, twining one thigh around Shiro's hip in a bid for leverage, trying to get closer. The roll of his body against him was something Shiro wanted to never, ever stop. Even the cold of the morning air on his skin--

From somewhere, a woman's voice yelled, "Keith!" but Shiro barely registered it until he noticed that Keith had stopped lapping the blood off of his shoulder and was frozen like a statue.

A very guilty, remorseful statue who knew the woman walking over with her hands on her hips had caught him doing something bad.

To be fair, her frown frightened Shiro, too. "Keith Yorak Kogane," she scolded. "Are you feeding on a human in some back alley? I am _sure_ I raised you better than that!"

"Mom! I--"

Shiro cut in. "Uh, hi. Ma'am. Please don't blame Keith for this. I asked him to do it."

She leveled the full weight of her stare on him to say, "If I thought this was against your will, my son and I would be having a very different conversation right now." Turning back to Keith, she sighed. "You know very well I'd like to meet your boyfriends before you get to be on blood-drinking terms. We're not savages."

Keith stepped away, and that blood really must have done something, because the wound in his side was barely a scratch, while all of the actual scratches he'd sustained were gone. "Mom. This isn't what it looks like. I don't even know if Shiro wants to date me. I was injured, and--"

"Why wouldn't I want to date you?" Shiro asked. That was the most ridiculous thing he'd heard all night.

His (hopefully) boyfriend looked dumbfounded. "I used you as bait to catch an elder vampire."

"And I had some very positive feelings during all that which I will not describe while talking to your mother." He extended a hand toward the woman who now had a grin on her face that looked a lot like the one Keith had been wearing in the office earlier. "Ma'am..."

"Krolia."

She shook his hand, and he answered in kind. "Nice to meet you, Krolia. I'm Dr. Shirogane Takashi, but most people call me Shiro."

Her smile turned glowing as she looked back to Keith. "Dr. Shirogane? So this is Mr. I Kinda Met Somebody, He's a Doctor?" Krolia examined him with much happier eyes this time. "You're right! He _is_ cute!"

"Mom..." Keith hissed.

"Well, you two seem fine, then," Krolia declared in a sing-song voice, walking away. "We took out the other sentries. Kolivan's squad is taking the prisoners to a safehouse and Antok is on cleanup. Text us not to wait up if you're staying out late!"

They waited in silence until she disappeared around the corner, which took long enough that Shiro was certain she was going at human speeds specifically to be a pain in the butt. With another shy smile, and still the most beautiful eyes Shiro had ever seen, Keith shrugged. "So now you've met my mom."

"I think I like her."

"And you _actually_ still want to go to IHOP with me?"

"Yes, absolutely," Shiro said, reaching out to cradle Keith's hands in his. "Eggs, pancakes, orange juice. And you. But maybe we can stop by my apartment so I can get a change of clothes and some bandages? Maybe antiseptic?"

Keith surveyed the wreck of Shiro's shredded outfit and nodded. "Good idea. And I think my pants are okay, but maybe I can borrow a shirt?"

"Sure, if you want," Shiro promised, reaching for Keith's hand as they walked. "I've got a couple things you can have if you want them," he added, going heavy on the innuendo.

Instead of clasping Shiro's hand, Keith pulled it around his waist, sticking his own hand into Shiro's back pocket as he nestled in close. "On a first date? You wish."


End file.
